Tommy had lost his marbles again….singing Cohen songs in Herald Square….top hat and dingy tails…..tap-dancing to his own bravado….

Give my regards to Broadway, singing at tourists with an ocassional nudge, I don’t work for free folks, the passing of the hat, Please…..no foreign currency…..

H-A-RR-I-G-A-N…spells Harrigan…..Come-on folks…..You know the words, no Tommy; those words were long forgotten; passed-away with Gershwin, Porter, Strayhorn only the queens at Sunday brunches in Chelsea remember the American song book….all pages have been ripped-out and burned…..

With a bill to his name, Tommy the Tapper strolls back to the shelter; still whistling away as passers go by……

Give my regards….